After luncheon on the following day, Polly, with the cablegram and money in her purse and her automatic safely disposed in her belt, walked in the plaza with Carroll. The legless beggar whined at them for alms. Handing him a _quartillo_, the Southerner would have passed on, but his companion stood eyeing the mendicant. “Now, what can there be in that poor wreck to captivate the scientific intellect?” she marveled. “If you mean Mr. Perkins—” began Carroll. “I do.” “Then I think perhaps the reason for some of that gentleman’s associations will hardly stand inquiry.” The girl turned her eyes on him and searched the handsome, serious face. “Fitz, you’re not the man to say that of another man without some good reason.” “I am not, Miss Polly.” “You think that Mr. Perkins is not the kind of man for me to have anything to do with?” “I—I’m afraid he isn’t.” “Don’t you think that, having gone so far, you ought to tell me why?” Carroll flushed. “I would rather tell your father.” “Are you implying a scandal in connection with my timid, little dried-up scientist?” “I’m only saying,” said the other doggedly, “that there’s something secret and underhanded about that place of his in the mountains. It’s a matter of common gossip.” The girl laughed outright. “The poor beetle man! Why, he’s so afraid of a woman that he goes all to pieces if one speaks to him suddenly. Just to see his expression, I’d like to tell him that he’s being scandalized by all Caracuña.” “You’re going to see him again?” “Certainly. This afternoon.” “I don’t think you should, Miss Polly.” “Have you any actual facts against him? Anything but casual gossip?” “No; not yet.” “When you have, I’ll listen to you. But you couldn’t make me believe it, anyway. Why, Fitz, look at him!” “Take me with you,” insisted the other, “and let me ask him a question or two that any honorable man could answer. They don’t call him the Unspeakable Perk for nothing, Miss Polly.” “It’s just because they don’t understand his type. Nor do you, Fitz, and so you mistrust him.” “I understand that you’ve shown more interest in him than in any one you know,” said the other miserably. Her laugh rang as free and frank as a child’s. “Interest? That’s true. But if you mean sentiment, Fitz, after once having looked into the depths of those absurd goggles, can you, _could_ you think of sentiment and the beetle man in the same breath?” “No, I couldn’t,” he confessed, relieved. “But, then, I never have been able to understand you, Miss Polly.” “Therein lies my fatal charm,” she said saucily. “Now, to the beetle man, I’m a specimen. _He_ understands as much as he wants to. Probably I shall never see him after to-day, anyway. He’s going to get a message through for us that will deliver us from this land of bondage.” “He can’t do it—too soon for me,” declared Carroll. “And, Miss Polly, you don’t think the worse of me for having said behind his back what I’m just waiting to say to his face?”